Abstract

Chapter 17

Harrys POV

"Adella," I still continue to chase after her, despite her obvious distaste for me.

"I said no, Harry." She continues to walk to our next class, not looking back. Honestly, she's creating a scene. Most of the other French students are sitting back watching the two English-speakers yell at each other.

I lead her outside, not caring if we are late to our first class.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me here, but at least go to dinner with me? We can just talk it over?"

She rolls her eyes, unable to give in just this once Always so fucking stubborn. "No, Harry."

I release my grip on her arm, leaving her standing alone outside of our building.

Adella's POV

The art class is amazing, but I can't help feel Harry's angry eyes on me from across the room. What am I supposed to do?

I can't just forgive him, even though I was taught how important forgiveness is. My parents always told me how it helps you get places in life, but they never were very good at it. Mostly my father, who I never had much of a close relationship with. He didn't even ask for my approval for his marriage with freaking Brianna. He barely even told me they were dating, let alone having a wedding in December. On the other side, there's my mom who works way to much to care for my younger brother.

My mom didn't forgive my dad for his affair, and my dad didn't want her forgive him. He'd rather break off their marriage my freshman year of high school, and move across the country. In short, forgiveness isn't my best trait.

Finally the lecture ends, and I hurry into the crowd of people exiting the room. Luckily Harry doesn't find me, and I escape the campus in one piece.

..

In my apartment, I sit on the couch, enjoying a glass of wine and starting my essay for my creative writing class.

For my spark, I choose romantic novels. I write about how both relationships and enthusiasm aren't picked my choice, they're given to you. It's impossible to be with somebody who you don't feel passionate about, and it's impossible to choose a spark that you don't feel passionate about. If it's not passionate, what's the point?

I hear footsteps upstairs, the party already starting. It's Monday, but the party never stops in Paris. Harry must be hosting this time, and by now I've figured out that they work on a transition list. Sometimes the party is at Harry's apartment, then Zayns, then Nialls, and so on.

Around six, the party is in full throttle, and I feel entirely alone in my tiny apartment. The voices, cheering, and music is very saddening. I want to call my mom, but it's probably early there. I'm once again left alone, proof-reading my essay for what seems like the tenth time.

Even though he is a major asshole, something about having Harry constantly around is comforting. If I wanted to, I could go upstairs right now and he would greet me happily. The only problem is that there's female voices, and I'm sure that they capture his attention much more than me.

A few minutes later, somebody rings my doorbell, and I look through the peephole, finding Zayn on the other side.

"Adella! Nice to see you again." He gives me a hug, which I return.

"You too." It's nice to see a kind, familiar, face again.

"So, I was wondering," He says. "if you wanted to come upstairs. I know Harry probably bugs the shit out of you, but I'd much rather have you up there then some girl."